


don't kiss me goodbye, kiss me goodnight

by vivilove



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Admittances, Aegon cheats, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politics, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Jon is a Writer, Modern Westeros, Pining!Jon, Reunions, Sansa marries and later leaves Aegon in chapter 2, Sexual Content, Starting Over, Time Skips, kind of some Kennedy vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:40:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28817943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: Jon Snow never dreamt of wanting the things his half-brother Aegon wants out of life...not until he meets Sansa.
Relationships: Jon Snow & Sansa Stark, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Sansa Stark/Aegon VI Targaryen (unhappy)
Comments: 197
Kudos: 277
Collections: Jonsa New Year Drabbles





	1. Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I've thought about this AU for a while as something I might do for a lengthy fic but kept delaying so this will be a series to fit drabblefest instead. Day 1 prompt- Dreams. 
> 
> Title and theme is inspired by Ernest Hemingway's quote- "I didn't want to kiss you goodbye-that was the trouble-I wanted to kiss you goodnight-and there's a lot of difference."

The banquet hall is full of the usual suspects; politicians, lobbyists and daydreamer idealists, donors with deep pockets, journalists, ‘yes’ men. There's women too; pricey call-girls his father always has here, the blue-blooded wives and girlfriends, some of whom want into this male-dominated scene. All of them in an array of suits and dresses that come from the most prestigious tailors in town to off-the-rack clearance bins.

Oh, and scores of attorneys because, sooner or later, everyone in this room needs one of those.

Expensive cigars and high-dollar scotch mix with cheap cologne. The endless cacophony of voices above the band that plays old standards and patriotic drivel on cue. Whether loud and assertive, boisterous and ridiculous or waspish and stinging, these people never shut the fuck up.

Jon hates this scene so much.

Normally, he can avoid it even with his father being who he is because he’s a Snow, not a Targaryen. But tonight, all eyes are on Aegon and Jon’s got to be here in a show of solidarity. That’s what it is, too. A show.

Elia spies him across the room no sooner than he’s walked in. Her eyes just as quickly cut away. That’s not a show. She doesn’t care for her husband’s bastard being here on her son’s night.

He edges around the far side of the bar, hoping to blend in if he can’t escape yet.

“Oops! Excuse me!”

He’d had his eyes on his father, hadn’t seen her backing away from the bar. But if someone's going to bump into him here, spill Merlot on him, he won’t complain about it being her.

Gorgeous red hair, a strappy, sparkly silver dress and blue eyes. A face straight out of a magazine. She’s all adorably flustered smiles as she ineffectively wipes at his suit. Who is she?

“I’m so sorry!”

Her voice is a song, lilting amusement. He stares at her trying to think of something witty to say, coming up blank like usual. “No, it’s…it’s nothing.” _You dream of being a writer but can't come up with anything to say? Pathetic._

“Jon? Godsdamn, you made it!”

One strong arm thrown around his neck, a whiff of body odor and bourbon. Aegon's already sweating bullets behind all those smiles he’s been giving and dousing his nerves with liquor every chance he gets.

He cups Jon’s face, eyes wild with the adrenaline of a rush Jon will never know or understand. “I knew you’d come, cubby.”

Jon scowls, eyes involuntarily flashing towards the pretty redhead. He hates when his brother calls him that. They aren’t terribly close but they’d tried when they were kids. Doesn’t mean his brother, who’s not even a year older than him, mind you, still has to call him that stupid nickname.

“Oh shit, this is perfect!” Aegon exclaims next, noting the woman still standing there with only half of her Merlot still in the glass and the other on Jon’s black jacket.

Jon’s scowl deepens. He knows how Aegon flirts and he doesn’t want to see it, not with her.

But the beauty speaks up before Aegon can utter one dumb pick-up line.

“So, this is Jon, is it?” She holds out a perfectly-manicured hand. “I’ve been hearing about you.”

“About me?” he says, half choking on his surprise. “Well, don’t believe anything this guy's told you.”

“I only believe about twenty-five percent of what Aegon says.”

“Smart lady.”

“Alright, alright. That’s enough bashing,” Aegon grumbles playfully. “This is Sansa, my girlfriend.”

Jon blinks and swallows a sigh. Of course, she’s Aegon’s girlfriend. Aegon always has the best luck when it comes to women.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sansa,” He shakes her hand, internally noting how soft and perfect it feels in his.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Jon. Again, I’m sorry for the spill.”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply before Aegon wedges his way between them, rambling away and making Sansa laugh. Sometimes, he loves his half-brother. Sometimes, he can’t stand him.

Before long, their father’s taking the stage gesturing for ‘his family’ to come up and join him. It’s time for the announcement everyone knows is coming. Aegon will be running for their father’s seat with Rhaegar ready to step down.

Aegon kisses Sansa on the cheek, tells her he’ll be right back. She isn’t ‘family’ yet then. Aegon will be looking for a wife though. It’s all part of the show. Doesn’t mean he’ll get Sansa. At least, part of Jon hopes he won’t.

Jon's hoping to stick by Sansa, maybe see if he can get out one complete sentence without Aegon jumping in.

But Aegon has other ideas. Much to the chagrin of their father and Elia, he drags Jon up on stage next to him. “I’m gonna need you by my side, cubby.”

“I’m going overseas in the fall for…”

“Come on, Jon. I’ll need you with me. It’s your duty as family,” he adds with a none-too-gentle poke in the ribs.

“Where’d you meet her?” Jon asks out of the side of his mouth to avoid a fight...and because he has to know.

“Coffee shop near her university. Bright girl. Studies geography…or geology...something. Asked her if I could buy her coffee in exchange for using her charger for a sec.”

Jon smirks. Aegon’s never afraid to go up to any pretty girl.

“Plus, she’s a Stark.”

_Of course, she is._ The only question Jon has now (which he doesn’t ask) is had Aegon known that _before_ he’d gone up to her.

It doesn’t matter. They can all have this scene. Sansa’s a stranger to him and, no matter what his father or Aegon thinks, Jon has his own life to live.

But later that night, when he sees them dancing, the pair of them near golden perfection in the spotlight, Jon dreams about something he’d never expected. He dreams of being in his brother’s shoes for once…just to be the one holding her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on Tumblr [here](https://vivilove-jonsa.tumblr.com/) if you want to say hi.
> 
> **Edit** This was going to be a series but the subsequent 'drabbles' were getting ridiculously long to be called that so it will be a four-chapter story instead. Much thanks to those of you reading 😅.


	2. Fireworks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, folks. Flexibility is the name of the game sometimes in life and this got way too long to be called anything like a drabble, thus series title became the fic title. I'm still using the drabble prompts as chapter titles anyway and it's still not the long-ass multichapter angst monster it could've been. Hoping some of you will enjoy :)
> 
> Also, before anyone hacks on my girl, Sansa's been raised with some of the same expectations as she had in canon. It's modern but she's surrounded by people pushing her into a certain type of role, the role where she's to be the helpmate, a good wife behind a powerful man so bear that in mind, please.

Even with her own father heavily involved in politics, she’d never planned on being a politician's wife but Aegon can be charming when he wants something. And he’d wanted Sansa back then.

Objectively, Jon can see perfectly well why the girls fall easily for Aegon. Handsome, full of charisma, confidence and charm, he always knows just want to say. It's also what makes him well-suited for a career in politics. 

It's the stuff underneath, the casual comfort with lying, the self-interest and the ability to turn a blind eye to ethics and morality that doesn't make him ideal as a romantic partner. 

Still, Aegon's his half-brother and Jon can't very well consider himself a man of honor if he'd make a play for Sansa...even if he'd felt those sparks right from the start when it came to her. 

But sometimes, he wonders what might’ve happened if he’d seen her first.

* * *

Yeah, he'll admit it. He purposefully sought out this particular café in the hopes of seeing her again. Too late of course. _Story of my life._

"Nice rock."

"Jon! This is a surprise!" she cries, spinning to find him behind her in line.

_To you maybe._ "I hear congrats are in order."

Bright eyes, a nervous glance at the ring. "Guess so. I didn't expect it."

"This soon, you mean?"

"At all to be honest. Want to join me?"

_Aegon wasn't going to let you slip through his fingers. He's not a total idiot._

Settling at a table after giving their orders, he tries to think up something to talk about...besides the ring. He'd like to get to know Sansa for himself. She's going to be family after all. _Sure, pal. Keep telling yourself that's the only reason._

"Aegon says you study geology?"

A wince before she laughs wryly. "No, not geology."

"Sorry, I think he said geography. Probably the diamond put rocks on my-"

"You don't have to cover for him. He only half listens sometimes." He frowns at that. "The campaigning and all." 

She shrugs and rolls her eyes. She's repeating the excuse she'll probably hear plenty. He knows Elia did. He knows his mother heard her own version of it. Him too as a kid. It makes him frown some more. 

"My degree is in psychology but my thesis focuses on Behavioral Geography, how humans relate to their environment with regards to their decision-making." She gives him an uncertain smile. "This is usually where I lose your brother."

"You've not lost me."

She's positively glowing...before her smile dims again. "Aegon says it sounds boring."

"Well, as a would-be writer, it sounds interesting to me. Human nature is fascinating."

"What sort of writer do you want to be?"

"Oh, I hope to write periodicals for 'Geology Quarterly.' Got a head full of rocks myself." Her lips twitch as she tries to figure out if he's joking. When she's sure, she starts laughing and he loves it. So at least his dumb joke was worth it. "Nah, I'm less exciting than that. I want to write the next great novel about human existence, triumphs and follies, suffering and romance that all would-be writers want to write, I guess."

A sly grin that makes his pulse thrum. "Aegon says you're a bit of a smart ass."

"Better than a dumb ass," he quips back, turning that grin into giggles. 

"Have you started it yet?"

"Not really. I'm still dabbling with ideas, writing short works that no one wants to publish, playing copy editor and writing bylines for now to pay the rent."

"Oh, but you are writing! Anything I can read?"

"Do you enjoy fictional erotica?" Her cheeks redden as she covers her face. Under the table, she gives his foot a stomp. "Yeah, I deserve that." Shyly, he adds, "You could read if you want but they're nothing great."

She seems to be sizing him up before she says, "I'll bet they're good. I think you're too hard on yourself in general."

"Me, hard on myself?" He scratches at his beard as if he's pondering that and wonders why the hell he's flirting with Aegon's future wife. In punishment, he switches topics. "So, what'd your folks say about the engagement?"

"They're very pleased. They think this makes more sense for me than my never-ending university studies and a doctorate they don't understand the point of."

He'd heard Ned Stark was... _traditional_. 

"Why's everything got to have a point to be worth doing? Does me writing a novel have a point beyond another novel being written to join the millions before it? Nothing says you can't continue your studies just because you're engaged, right?"

"Right but being a politician's wife is it's own sort of job, my mother says. And, Aegon says he'll need me by his side during the home-stretch of the campaign. Says it'll help produce the right image." 

Image. Yeah, that would be important to an up-and-coming politician. The beautiful fiancée by his side with a last name well respected in the Northern region. 

He should shut up about it. He knows how hard it can be to tell Aegon no and with her parents on board? She's all of twenty-four. He's twenty-eight and still struggles to tell his father no. 

"Okay but why can't you still work on your thesis in between donor dinners and conventions?" 

Sometimes, he sucks at shutting up. And Sansa should be free to pursue what she wants. 

"Oh, I'm sure I'll...it'll work out." She glances towards the counter as a young man shouts a number a second time. "That's our order ready, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I'll fetch it." 

Maybe she wants to be Mrs. Targaryen more than she wants that doctorate but Jon leaves an hour later with more doubts than anything about Sansa's future happiness...and more infatuated than ever. 

* * *

Soon, it became a habit, meeting for coffee every week. Never mind that his job was nowhere near campus. Just a habit, as easy as kiss my hand. And as hard as falling in love someone who could never be yours, who was going to be the wife of someone close to you.

'Jessie's Girl' is playing and he damn near snarls into his coffee cup. But when she joins him, smiling and talking about her finals being done and shedding her sunlight all around, he's smiling, too. 

"So the date's set?"

A nervous smile, not a happy one, appears. "Yep. Aegon said December would be best since he'll be settled into office by then. Of course, he says I'll be doing most of the planning."

"Sounds like Aegon." A sarcastic huff from them both.

"My mother's ecstatic though. Already got the venue booked and a wedding planner lined up. Says she'll come down to help me find a dress, look at cakes and set up a registry next weekend."

"Wow, that's...guess there's a lot to do." _Are you ecstatic?_ She doesn't look it.

"Yeah, the fairytale wedding of my girlhood dreams will involve a lot of planning, I guess. Funny how in the daydreams, it's all the snap of your fingers, right?" 

He murmurs an agreement, afraid to speak any more about it, afraid he might vomit if they do. A swirl of jealousy and self-loathing consume him. 

They drink their coffee and talk about other things for a while like the screenplay his friend Sam asked him to revise for a low-budget play he's producing. 

"Jon Snow, Script Doctor."

"Another thing for my Jack of all Trades, Master of None list of accomplishments as a writer."

"You'll get there, Jon. I know you will." 

"Thank you." 

A pregnant pause as she considers something. He knows by now when Sansa's got something serious to say. She gets very quiet, reflective. Plus, she scrunches her nose up which is adorable. 

"Jon? Do you ever feel like the bigger script is...does the script ever seem to get away from you?"

"Which script?"

"The script of our lives."

"Oh, I like that as a title...but how do you mean?"

"Well, Mr. Writer, do you ever think about how the things we thought we wanted can change over time? Or how the thing we'd grown up being told we are supposed to do doesn't wind up being something you're really _meant_ to do or...aren't we supposed to be the lead actor or actress in our own lives at least?"

"Of course, we are. Who wants to go through life seeing themselves as the co-star? Sansa, is this about Aegon and his career?"

"Mostly, I guess. I'm just wondering where I fit in with his plans and...you know what? I'm rambling. Tell me about your upcoming assignment in Naath for that news journal."

"It's a pretty big deal but...Sansa, are you having second thoughts or..."

"No! No!" She sounds nearly frantic. "Just some jitters. Can't back out now." 

"Yeah, you can. I'm pretty sure that's why they make you go through the whole 'do you take this man' bit with all the provisos listed out. So you can be absolutely sure, honey. Up until you say 'I do' you can-"

He reaches for her hand but, in the blink of an eye, she's got her armor up again.

"Don't mind my babbling, Jon. We're happy and it's all going to be fine. I'm going to miss you a ton while you're away."

And like that, hope fades and he hates himself for calling it hope. He sinks back into his uncomfortable state of inaction and nods. "I'll miss you, too."

The trip to Essos will be for the best, he tries to tell himself. He's going to miss her so much but being with her and _not_ being with her is also like bleeding out at this point.

* * *

They'd pulled out all the stops, quite the country club bash and he can see shades of a little girl's fairytale dreams. There's even fireworks planned before the bride and groom are whisked away in their stretch limo. More sparks and sizzle, the razzle dazzle that doesn't quite feel real to Jon. A man and a woman getting married shouldn't require this degree of pomp and circumstance but what in seven hells does he know? 

He shouldn't have come. He couldn't _not_ come. He'd hoped six months abroad would cure him of this but he's as gone as ever for her and she's dancing with her groom. At least, it's not their first dance. He's not a total dick.

"May I cut in?"

Aegon slaps him on the back, his eyes glazed from too much champagne though Jon believes he's truly happy in this moment. "Be my guest, cubby. I see Moneybags Tyrell over there anyway and want to give him a shout."

He leaves them alone, the beautiful bride and the besotted groomsman. "You're radiant, Sansa."

The first genuine smile he's seen as they start to sway. (He knows her smiles.)

"Gods, I'm glad you came back." Her arms are wrapped around his shoulders and his are around her waist and has anything ever felt this right? _No matter how wrong you are to think that, it's true._

His heart feels like it's floating when he tells her, "Nothing could keep me from seeing you in this dress."

She laughs, that alluring sound which haunts his dreams. "Thank you. So, where will you go next, Mr. Writer?"

"Don't know. I'm here for now...unless you want me to take you away from all this. I've got my keys in my pocket and my bike out back, Cinderella."

A half-hearted laugh. "I've already got past the 'I do' part, remember? I'm stuck." 

Stuck. "Well, that's romance for you." 

Another fake laugh. A sigh. A sniffle.

His stomach plunges and he pulls her closer. "Fuck, that was a shitty thing for me to say and I was joking." _Mostly_. 

He brings a hand up to cup her face, makes her watery blue eyes meet his and prays that her folks who are well passed tipsy at this point and dancing nearby won't notice. 

"Hey. Tell me what's wrong, honey. Why is the bride about to cry? They'll think I've stepped on your toes when you've already nailed mine in those heels once."

Okay, that got a begrudging giggle. "It's just been so exhausting, showers and speaking engagements and a total whirlwind. All of it. It seems like two weeks ago he was asking to buy me a coffee and we're here already and everything is his career and I...I dropped out of my program." 

He sighs and rests his forehead against her temple, hating that last bit more than anything, the thing that was hers given up for Aegon's ambitions.

"I do want a family. I want kids...someday. His career is important to me but I was really thinking the things I wanted would matter a little bit, too." 

"They do. It mattered to you. That means it mattered, Sansa. It should matter to him."

She barely takes that in as she keeps hurriedly whispering her fears. How long has she held on to them? Doesn't she have anyone who she could've said all this to before today? Besides the half-brother of the groom? 

No, probably not. Her parents think this is all wonderful, just what their precious princess should want out of life. She's been losing touch with those university friends since the day he swept into her life, too. Aegon's had her following him around the campaign trail, mixing with the wives and girlfriends who are just like they all expect her to be. 

"My father had this career too and always said how he couldn't have done it without my mother's support and I thought I could do it but my parents were always happy even when things were...I don't think it's going to be the same for me and Aegon."

That crack in her voice kills him and Jon's afraid she's right. Aegon never had a girlfriend for more than three months before Sansa. He liked playing the field too much. If he's anything like their old man, he won't stop playing the field either. He should've introduced Sansa to his mother before she got this far, he thinks. 

A shift and she pulls back, embarrassed. The armor comes back up but he can see the chinks in it clearly now. "I'm sorry. I guess I just needed a friend to...gods, what am I saying?"

Her chin trembles and he crushes her to him, makes her a promise. "I'll always be here for you, okay?"

"For me? But he's your brother."

"Half-brother...and fuck him." A surprised laugh. "I'm here whenever you need me, Sansa."

"Why are you so good to me?"

"You're my...friend." _And I love you._

She nods, letting him hold her close still.

When she's past the threat of tears, she asks him why he's not dancing with any of the single ladies.

"I'm dancing with the lady I wanted to dance with tonight."

It's the closest he's going to get to a confession with her wearing the ring Aegon gave her.

* * *

**Two years later**

Two years since they said 'I do' and lots of going through the motions for Jon, looking for the thing he lost which was never his.

Two years for Sansa, the light of his pathetic life. Two years of her being his best friend and him being hers...while being secretly and madly in love with her. 

Two years with Aegon for her. 

A few laughs that grew fewer and farther in between over the months. Endless public engagements, fake smiles, no children yet. She takes her birth control religiously, says she's not ready. Not ready to make Aegon a father at least. Not to mention the whispers and wondering if Aegon might already be a father. 

Skirmishes behind closed doors, shouting that comes down the hall he can't ignore, knocks loudly, putting the brakes on things, giving her a way out. Aegon wouldn't hit her. He's not that variety of asshole but Jon wants to be sure. He doesn't deserve her. Jon's already firmly convinced of that. Maybe from the night he met her. 

No visible tears but commiserating with her friend, her brother-in-law. Too much scotch for Aegon, pills to help him sleep. Maniacal workout routines and shopping for her. Lots and lots of tension. 

It was always headed for a blow up.

* * *

There were fireworks tonight at the fundraiser to announce Aegon's intention to run for the open small council seat, the next step up, the one their father never achieved.

And when she'd caught him with his trousers around his ankles and a staffer sucking his cock soon after, there'd been more fireworks, the dangerous sort.

“I know she's not the first, Jon. You think I’m stupid?”

Her tone is sharp, her eyes accusing but Jon knows this is misdirected anger. He wasn’t the one who cheated. He wouldn’t cheat on his wife (if he had one.) He would _never_ cheat on her.

“Only an idiot would call you stupid, Sansa.”

“Then, I guess you can turn around and tell Idiot I’m leaving.”

He suppresses a grin as he props himself against the dresser, watching her haphazardly packing her suitcase. He'd been told to ‘talk some sense into her.’ He’d rather help her pack. He’d rather drive her wherever it is she wants to go. They all treat him like a damn errand boy anyway. He wouldn’t mind being _her_ errand boy.

But she’s already called a car and he’ll be running interference so she can actually get in that car.

She lowers her voice as her chin drops to her chest. “Two years, Jon. Two years I’ve played this game.”

“I know, Sansa.”

Her head snaps back up. “I’m done.”

“I can’t blame you.”

Anger flares. “Does he think he’d have ever made it this far, this quick without my family’s backing?!”

“If he does, he’s an even bigger idiot than I already thought.”

A half-hearted smile. She won’t break down and cry here. She’s too well-schooled in this life and the performances it forces on you.

She closes her suitcase, toeing on a pair of Louboutin heels before sweeping her gorgeous red hair over one shoulder. “I worried you’d be stopping me.”

_That’s what they want. Not what I want._ “I won't stop you. I’m here to say I’m sorry…sorry my brother’s such a shit.”

Another faint smile. It breaks his heart.

Her next move has it pounding as she steps into his space, pinning him between her and the dresser. He stares at the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, then her lips.

_“Are you in love with my wife, cubby?”_ Aegon had asked not too long ago.

He’d scoffed and denied it. 'Yes' would’ve been the honest answer.

“Goodbye, Jon. I’ll miss you. I wish...if things had been...if I'd known...”

She doesn't finish the sentence but leans forward before his brain can compute the whole scene.

Her lips catch the corner of his mouth instead of his cheek. He was supposed to stay still but couldn't.

“Sansa…” he croaks, struggling to speak.

_I’ll miss you, too. Don’t go. Or go but only let me come with you. I love you._

He can’t say any of it. He’s a fucking coward and she deserves better than this family.

Her cheeks are pinker when she steps back and they both share a moment of awkward throat-clearing where Jon doesn't know what to do with his hands. What he'd like to do, his put them on her waist and pull her back for another kiss, a proper one.

But, she grasps her suitcase and heads out of the bedroom and down the stairs. He rushes ahead to open the front door for her. She’s leaving and Aegon won’t stop her.

She pauses on the threshold, beautiful blue eyes looking back at Jon once more even as Aegon’s shouting about how she’s ruining his career. He gives her a nod as he steps in front of his half-brother, daring him to do anything.

One last glance and she’s gone into the night.

When will he see her again? Will he ever find the nerve to tell her? And would she ever care to hear it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be updated again on Thursday for that day's prompt-New Beginnings which will include a Sansa POV at last. 
> 
> Also, if you follow it, I will update Mine for a Season on Wednesday but my other WIPs will have to wait for next week before I get around to them *fingers crossed*


	3. New Beginnings

The first several weeks passed in a blur. 

Sansa can still recall walking towards her father and Jory at the airport that morning after she left and wondering how much they’d already guessed based on her cryptic text that she was coming home and could someone pick her up. 

A hug from each, her father’s arm around her and Jory taking her bag as they whisked her out the doors and away. Snowfall in Winterfell rolling past the window. Sweet Freedom whispering in her ear. (That voice was gruff but velvety in its own way. Its eyes were dark grey and sincere.) 

Once she’d reached home and had her parents’ undivided attention so she could explain, she’d been relieved that her irrevocable decision to leave Aegon hadn’t received any of the pushback she’d feared. They weren’t going to change her mind but she knew how they clung to the traditional family unit as the ideal and how sacred they viewed the union of marriage. It’s what they’d steered her towards all her life after all. 

But Aegon’s infidelity had forsaken all that and she’d had her mother’s fiery support and her father’s stony-eyed agreement so that was something at least.

_“That must’ve been so horrible for you to catch him that way, darling,”_ her mother had wept.

_“Yes, it was.”_

Sort of. 

Looking back, the initial emotional response had surprised her. Relief. 

Question: What kind of wife is relieved to catch her husband getting a blowjob from someone else? 

Answer: An unhappily married one, a woman who no longer loves him (if she ever really did at all) and is looking for a way out.

Of course, anger and humiliation had sparked quick enough though. How fucking dare he?! And in their house?! And how old was that girl even?!

Her phone had been vibrating across the coffee table for several minutes when she’d decided to glance at it: Aegon. Jon. Aegon. Jon…and Jon again. Voicemail, text, voicemail, text and a voicemail.

One trying to worm his way back into her heart less than twelve hours after being caught red-handed at cheating and their very nasty final fight, the other just wanting to make sure she’d made it safely to her parents’ house, worried about her well-being. Two brothers, or half-brothers, who were different in all the ways that truly mattered. 

_“We’ll get you a new number or I can block those if you want. Those people are finished hurting you, pumpkin,”_ her father had said, grimly.

Sansa knew better than to believe her father could wave a magic wand and make what was coming go away but she’d only argued one point. 

_“No, not Jon. I’ll deal with Aegon when I must on my terms but Jon’s not…I’m never blocking Jon.”_

If they’d been surprised by her declaration, they’d only determined that she needed rest. She’d acquiesced and gone upstairs without her phone after sending Jon a quick text to let him know she was safe and thank him for everything the previous night. 

She’d slept for roughly three days after that, more drained by the past two years than she’d ever imagined. 

_“Goodbye, Jon. I’ll miss you. I wish…if things had been…if I’d known…”_

A sea of words exchanged over the course of their friendship and so many things left unsaid. 

That moment in her and Aegon’s bedroom with Jon, the scruff of his beard along with the corner of his mouth, his sinfully pouty lips almost meeting hers. Those dark eyes nearly black with what she’d fancied was hunger for half a heartbeat as her own her heart had been thundering with a hunger of its own. 

But those thoughts had been buried so deeply for so long by the dutiful girlfriend and wife she’d tried to be. It would take some time, some healing and an unexpected accusation before she could consciously entertain them. 

And if she ever told him, what would he even think? His brother's soon-to-be ex-wife? Could he see her differently beyond that? 

* * *

_‘Time, time, time_

_See what’s become of me_

_While I looked around for my possibilities…’_

Time is such an intriguing concept, both finite and infinite depending upon the situation. 

Nine whirlwind months of wooing and confusion had passed from the moment Aegon walked up to her with an easy smile and a ready line to the moment her father had been walking her down the aisle. Aegon had been committed to winning her hand as surely as he’d courted voters at the polls. The confusion had been the other part of the equation; Jon and what he'd come to represent to her, to mean to her by the night he danced with her at the wedding reception. 

Still, the time had passed and she’d done what she'd always done, allowed life and the script she'd been handed to dictate where she was going and missed her chances to call her own shots. 

Not anymore. 

_‘Seasons change with the scenery_

_Weaving time in a tapestry_

_Won’t you stop and remember me?’_

Sansa nervously raps her fingernails against her phone case as the song plays quietly from someone’s cubicle nearby. The rapping increases along with her heart beat. She has to wipe her palms discretely against her dress slacks every few minutes. She’s probably overdressed. This is a university and she’s a would-be student. 

There’s been a few curious looks. She’s made a point of meeting every eye, flashing a friendly but brief smile. Some smile back, some quickly look away, ashamed they were caught. She hates that her face is so well-known and why. 

Her phone vibrates, nearly making her yelp and drop it. But she’s grinning when she sees the message from Jon.

_Got your bag of rocks ready, honey?_

A stupid geology-based joke that she still adores. She quickly responds. _Sure do._

_Then knock ‘em dead._

The door opens before she can reply again but she knows her cheeks are probably bright red when she hears someone calling her. “Mrs. Targaryen?”

“Yes. Stark, actually. I prefer Ms. Stark if you don’t mind.”

“Right, of course. We’re ready for you.”

“Thank you.” 

Sansa grasps her satchel and heads into the dean of admissions' office. 

“Champagne to celebrate or beer to wallow, Ms. Stark?” Jeyne asks over the phone an hour later. 

“A bottle of bubbly is in order, Ms. Poole.”

Remaining with her parents long-term hadn’t been a healthy option, especially once the vultures began to circle. 

The press had been horrendous, fed their scraps by Rhaegar’s people once Aegon realized no amount of apologies, flower deliveries or attempts to face her were going to change anything. Her attorney had threatened legal action if he continued to harass her and then the gloves had come off for good at that point. 

She’d been bracing for it but her parents were older, her father had high blood pressure and seeing paps out by the post box every morning would send him into a rage. She’d made a few inquiries amongst old friends and found a solution before too many more mornings of that had passed. 

Still, she never would’ve survived the whole media circus and mess of her divorce without her family’s support and her friends’. 

Jon, who broke all ties with his father and half-brother over what followed, had been her rock, for lack of a better word. A steady stream of telephone calls and emails and texts exchanged with much affection between them, her dear friend just as he’d been throughout her ill-fated marriage. _If only, I'd met you first. If only you'd mentioned keys and your bike before the ceremony rather than after maybe._

Still, she couldn't hold Jon responsible for her choices and mistakes. She'd only given him snatches of her misgivings prior to the 'I do'. She should've been listening to them closer herself instead. And she understands who Jon is very well. The type of man who'd try and steal his brother's wife away? That's not him. 

Her mother had once asked if that didn’t feel strange to be so close to her husband’s brother after everything.

_“Not at all. I might never have met Jon without Aegon but the two aren’t as linked in my mind as you may imagine. Jon is…something altogether, he's his own man to me.”_

Her mother had nodded uncertainly and ‘casually’ mentioned that her father’s old friend Robert Baratheon was coming into town for a visit and his son Joffrey was traveling with him.

_“Only if you’re interested in having dinner with them, that is…”_

_“Thanks but no. I’m not interested in anything like that right now.”_

She’d been mentally rolling her eyes. Her parents mean well but they are who they are. They still think she needs a man to be a complete person when she was already complete from the start. So, there wasn’t much point in telling her mother that Joffrey’s good looks were outweighed by his wretched temper and she wouldn’t waste a minute of her time with him even if she was open to dating again. Which she hadn't been. 

_And when I am…_

She told that voice to be quiet. She’d get there. Just not yet. 

Meanwhile, if Jon was her rock, he’d been her very far away rock and she’d needed someone closer to lean on, to rekindle a lovely friendship with. 

Lucky for her, Jeyne Poole, her dear, old friend from secondary days was still in the North, had a room to spare at her quaint little farmhouse outside of White Harbor and happily welcomed Sansa there.

In the months that followed, in the quiet of Jeyne’s place as she kept her head down in public, Sansa started to find her feet again as well as feeling her passions and her pursuits coming back to life. 

The two friends have fun together, remembering girlhood days while reminding themselves they're still young and have so much life ahead of them to look forward to. 

And, on the handful of occasions when Jeyne has invited a date home and Sansa hasn't been able to avoid hearing at least part of their nocturnal activities (the walls are far thinner than one might wish), Sansa closes her eyes and pops in her earbuds and chants someday, someday, someday, to herself to remember that she can find passion again and maybe she might even know a deep and true love at last, too.

“Congratulations!” Jeyne shouts, laughing and holding up a bottle when Sansa enters the house and kicks off her shoes. 

They embrace and pop the cork. “To getting back on track.” 

“To new beginnings for you, my friend.”

“Thank you.”

The glasses clink. They hum and sip, sip and hum in delight before Sansa notices the package on the table.

“Is that for me?”

“Yep,” Jeyne says with a little grin.

“Oh gods, is it more legal garbage?” The divorce was finalized two weeks ago and she dreads the thought of anything more.

“Nope.” She’d popped that 'P' quite smugly and Sansa raises her eyebrows curiously. “That didn’t come from Kings Landing or any attorneys office. That came all the way from Dorne actually.”

She nearly knocks her glass over in her rush to get to the package. Her hands are shaking as she carefully slits the edge with a case knife and pulls out the roughly bound pages. He's wrapped some brown paper and twine around it then tucked a bright yellow marigold into that which has only just begun to wilt. He must've sent this overnight. 

She carefully lays the flower aside, fully intending to put it in water and then unwraps the rest.

“Oh shit.”

_The Script of Our Lives_

_-a novel_

_by Jon Snow_

_For Sansa_

"Well, that's some romance for you, lucky duck. Not just a flower but a whole book to boot." 

Heat floods her face at her friend's words but she can't tell her to hush like usual when it comes to Jon. Jeyne's been convinced since their second heart-to-heart about him that he's in love with her but she'd dismissed it, too afraid to trod that path just yet. She'd needed time to be herself. She might still need some time. And is Jeyne even right? Were Aegon's hateful words the last time they spoke not completely off base? 

Everyday, she thinks about him. Every time they speak, whether by email, text or phone, she feels those sparks, the ones that could fuel a fire strong enough to last the harshest winter.

Tears of joy are streaming down her cheeks when she calls him. She sounds so silly and emotional when he picks up. “Your book!”

“My manuscript," he corrects but she can hear the smile in his voice. "Don’t think I get to call it a book officially until it gets published. It’s a rough but completed first draft so go easy on me. It’s rocky enough here in Starfall without any rocks hurled at me from way up there.”

Gods, she hates being reminded of the physical distance. She wants to hug him so much right now. “Are you really going to dedicate it to me?”

“Of course, I am!”

“But what will-”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about what any member of my family says except my mother and she was wholly supportive of the dedication…so there. You’re stuck with a crappy novel being dedicated to you.”

“I love it.”

“You’ve not read it yet.”

“I will. And I’ll love it.”

“Well, good because I love you.” 

Someone gasps and Sansa’s not sure who. Maybe her. Maybe him. Maybe both. 

She can hear Jeyne's kitchen clock ticking as she tries to collect her scattered thoughts and conjure the words she feels with every fiber of her being in this moment. 

Unfortunately (or fortunately maybe), Jon speaks first. “I mean, you know I love you as my best friend.”

_Right_. “Right, of course. Same here." 

He's in Dorne writing his novel. (Well, he's trying to find a publisher now perhaps.) 

And she's just been accepted into WHU's doctorate program to hopefully finished what the last three years threatened to put out of her reach forever.

"You're also my favorite critic which is why you get first crack at telling me how much it sucks, honey," he adds, the warmth in his voice and the endearment making her heart go thump-thump...and stirring some other thoughts. 

"When do I ever criticize your writing?”

“You don’t. You just cheer me on. That’s why you’re my favorite. We writers are fragile little souls who need at least one person in their corner more interested in nourishing them than discouraging.”

“Well, I’m here, always happy to nourish you, Jon.” 

_Gods, that sounded a little..._

It did. He's quiet and Jeyne snorts champagne up her nose by accident, immediately followed by hacking and laughter. Sansa has to smother a sudden fit of giggles, realizing how strange this side of the conversation must sound. 

“Um...tell me how your meeting went today. Are you officially going back to work on that thesis of yours, Ms. Behavioral Geography?” 

“Yes, I am.” 

She gives Jeyne an apologetic grin, hugs the manuscript to her chest and heads into her bedroom for a few minutes. She’s going to celebrate with Jeyne some more soon enough...and probably endure a little ribbing. Right now, she just wants to talk to him. 

* * *

“May I have your autograph, Mr. Snow?”

His head whips up, knowing that voice. His stunned look morphs into what is no doubt the goofiest grin. He doesn’t care. He shoots to his feet, pulling her into a hug.

“What are you doing here?” he murmurs, signaling for one of the bookshop workers to bring an extra chair. He’s also greedily inhaling her fragrance like a starving man. Gods, she smells as good as she looks.

“Heard you were here causing some hullabaloo,” she says grinning. “Couldn’t miss your first book signing, could I?"

"But you...I didn't expect you'd come here. I thought you meant my first one up North or..."

"Surprise. But I came a long way so please don't shoot me down when I ask about your dinner plans.”

“I think I can pencil you into my busy schedule.” She laughs, playfully smacking his arm as the chair arrives. “Will you stay with me?” His heart’s in his mouth waiting for her reply but she nods and does just that.

Once seated, she gives his knee a squeeze, her eyes flickering to the line that’s trailing out the door. “Go on. They’ve been waiting for their chance to meet the reclusive writer behind the best-seller.”

He wishes he could tell them to return another day. The day Sansa walks back into his life in the flesh is not a day he wants to spend giving little nuggets of himself to strangers. She can have all of him.

It’s been over two years since she left and Jon knows she’s been through a lot (though you’d never know it looking at her.) The press, the scandal and the nastiness from his father’s people trying to turn Sansa into the villain. His family’s behavior towards her had been the breaking point for Jon. He’d left the fold for good, hasn’t spoken to any of them in well over eighteen months.

But through it all, she’s maintained her grace. The press labeled her the Ice Queen but she’s not that to him. With Jon, she’s shared her anger and her pain, her growing acceptance and her admittance that the man she thought she’d loved had been nothing but an illusion. _“Maybe from the start.”_

Mostly, they’ve talked via telephone and email because she went back north and, since he hadn’t been ballsy enough to follow her, he’d gone south to write his book at last. He’d poured his heart into the damn thing, sharing snippets of it with her as he wrote, keen for her impressions. She’d read the first completed draft and would not allow him to demure or dismiss what he had done.

_“I’m not a great writer.”_

_“You will be.”_

_“That part should flow better.”_

_“Then, make it flow better and let me read it again.”_

No, they can't completely forget that person who first introduced them but their friendship has flourished even long-distance with no Aegon between them now.

Even with the pending divorce making headlines, Aegon had won his seat on the small council though it'd been a close race and the North had voted heavily for the other candidate. However, the sex scandal that broke after an eighteen-year-old intern gave an exclusive will likely cost him reelection. He’s flown as close to the sun as he’s meant to at the ripe old age of thirty-four and the fall is all that waits for him now.

His drinking’s getting worse, Jon’s heard, and he might feel sorry for him except Aegon’s had most things handed to him in life. Frittering it all away has been his choice. Jon doesn't mean to do the same with his life. 

And if she'll give him a chance, he doesn't meant to waste any chance with Sansa. 

* * *

“How are your folks?”

"Fine. Your mother?"

"She's good, says she hopes you'll come down and see Dorne someday."

Yes, his mother is well aware of how he feels about Sansa. It'd take someone far less astute than Lyanna Snow to not figure that out. She's eager to meet her 'future daughter-in-law.' His cheeks are suddenly on fire at the thought. Thank gods for beards and low lighting. 

As Jon tears into a dinner roll, the server arrives with a bottle he hadn’t ordered. Jon starts to wave him off but Sansa laughs and says, “It’s on me. I stopped by the bar on my way to the ladies’ room.”

“Sneaky,” he says, waggling his eyebrows as the server starts to pour and getting a giggle. “Champagne?” That’s going to get her more giggly, always does. He’ll be sure to see her safely back to her hotel. He would’ve anyway.

“It’s a night to celebrate,” she tells him, raising her glass once the server’s gone again.

“I felt like a dumbass sitting there signing books for two hours, I’ll have you know.”

“No one would guess it. You're good with a crowd."

"Not as good as some."

"That's probably not a bad thing. And you were always my smart ass, not a dumbass. We’re not only toasting your success, you know.”

He raises his flute to hers. Together, the pair makes a melodious clink. “That's right! One FaceTime call was not enough to properly congratulate you. To new beginnings, Dr. Stark.”

Sansa Stark, Ph.D. Dreams put on hold can still be fulfilled someday, they say. He couldn’t be happier for her.

She’s going to be moving to White Harbor permanently after accepting a position at the university there. He wouldn't mind seeing the North again. _And a writer can write anywhere._

“I think I’m a curiosity to them as much as anything, the ex-wife seeking a career in academia.”

“No, you’re brilliant and I’m sure they know it, too. The department will be lucky to have you.”

“You’re always so kind.”

“Not kind, honest.”

She sips her champagne and studies him. “Always?”

“Always what?”

“Are you always honest?” 

Slowly, she reaches out, covers his hand that’s resting on the table with hers. All this time and her touch still electrifies him. 

“I…” He knocks back the rest of his drink with his free hand and tugs at his collar as a warning starts to ring in his ears. “I try to be.”

She’s quiet for several beats, hand still covering his, cute little nose scrunch going on.

“Good 'cause I'm asking for some of that now."

"Okay..."

"Not long before I left him, Aegon told me you were in love with me. He said it like it was a great joke. I didn’t think it was funny. For days afterwards, I thought about what he said though. And after I left, right before the divorce was final, he called me very drunk and angry one night. He said I wasn’t any better than him, that you and I were always flirting, always touching and sharing private jokes.”

He flips his hand so that their palms are touching, squeezing tenderly. “That’s fucking bullshit, Sansa. You never cheated. We never…”

"No, he didn't suggest we were sleeping together. He said if he cheated physically, I was cheating emotionally...that I was giving you the part of me he never saw."

"I..." 

He doesn't know what to say to that. He knows there's no one he'd rather give his heart and soul to than her and he knows she shared things with him that Aegon never heard about. Still, he's angered by Aegon attacking her over him unfairly. It's not as if Aegon made much of an effort to know her or understand her at all once he got what he wanted. 

“And it made me wonder, had I done that? I started examining how I was with you and why and my feelings about that. I never worked up the nerve to ask you before but I’m asking you now. Was Aegon right? Did you have feelings for me then, Jon?”

He gulps nervously, knowing the truth is all he can give her though he fears the outside chance it might cost him her friendship if she hates hearing this.

In the end though, the words slide easily off his tongue. “He was. I did.” Her eyes drop to where their hands are still clasped. “Sansa…does that upset you or…”

“Could you still feel that way about me? Even now?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes. Always. I do.”

Her eyes meet his again, bright with unshed tears. What do they mean?

But her radiant smile tells him and his heart sighs with joy and relief.

"Sansa Stark...may I take you out on a date?"

"You may." 

Their hands are still clasped when the server returns with their entrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from 'Hazy Shade of Winter'
> 
> I'd like to finish this one by Saturday for the prompt Auld Acquaintance. It may be shorter than the last two chapters (*she says... _like a liar_ *) so maybe I can get it done :) 
> 
> I'll be posting an unrelated drabble for tomorrow's prompt 'luck' and I'll be working on WIPs again after that.


	4. Auld Aquaintance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to bump up the rating. These two deserved it, m'kay?
> 
> Also, I didn't clarify last chapter but they're in Kings Landing in this first section where she's come to see him at his book signing and it's the first time she'd been in the capital since she left Aegon.

Giggling a bit too much, talking a bit too loudly, heels catching every uneven bit of pavement, she happily allows Jon to escort her back to the hotel after dinner that night. Drunk on happiness as much as champagne. He loves her and she knows it and she knows she loves him, too. She's just got to say it...soon. 

At the door to her hotel room though with the unfamiliar bed looming over her shoulder in this city that makes her edgy, she swallows hard, her panic rising. It’s been so long since she’s been here, so long since she’s been with any man and the last had been her ex-husband of course, his half-brother. 

But Jon knows her, he knows her like no others do.

“No, not tonight, I know,” he says so softly, giving her the gentlest of kisses on her cheek. “You need some rest, sleep off your champagne. I’m taking you out tomorrow, yeah?”

Heart swollen with so much love, she thinks her ribs might crack. She sways into his embrace, eyes wet but joyful. “Yes, tomorrow.”

One more kiss, this one right at the corner of her mouth. That heat in his eyes makes more than her chest ache. Gods, how she wants him, even with the hesitancy still there.

“Alright then," he says, finger catching her chin and a playful, happy grin on his face. "Goodnight, Sansa.”

Goodnight, not goodbye.

* * *

A trip to the museum the following day, some gentle teasing over her sunglasses and hangover. “Why aren’t you suffering, too?” she grumbles. “You drank as much as me, more even.”

“Higher tolerance, I guess.” _That and I outweigh you by forty pounds at least._

Warm smiles, hands clasped, a discussion about history, old jokes about geology. Comfortable together, their friendship the foundation of all the rest, the best sort of love story in Jon's opinion. It's what his bestseller had centered on after all. 

But as the sun goes down, they cannot help but be _aware_. 

Things are different now. He’s admitted his love for her and he believes she feels the same even if she’s not said it just yet. 

Another meal together. How many meals have they shared? Dozens and dozens. 

The check arrives and he grasps it quickly. This is their first date and he's not above being a little old-fashioned at times. She smiles, tucking a tendril of hair back behind one ear and his heart melts all over again.

Walking back to her hotel. First date followed by a first kiss perhaps. More than that? He’s not sure. He’d seen the minor freak-out last night and understood. She’d not been ready and that’s okay. They’ve got time. He’s waited this long for her. He’d wait forever if she said it must be so. He might’ve had to if Aegon had been a different sort of man. 

But a kiss seems right. A real one. More than just a teasing press of lips against the corner of a mouth. They could take the rest slow but he’s hoping for a kiss, ready to beg for one even. 

His heart’s going rat-a-tat-tat at the thought as the elevator’s taking them up to her room again like last night. Except now, she’s not drunk, not even tipsy. 

Down the carpeted hallway, shoes muffled. The crackling tension is building between them. She gives his hand a squeeze. 

There’s always something about a hotel that feels full of possibilities to Jon, some sense that choices could be made without too much weighing of outcomes. He’s not sure why. Maybe he’s an idiot. And he won’t push. He’d never push. But, fuck, does he want to kiss her.

That same doorway again. Sansa’s skin is flushed as they face one another. 

“What time’s your flight?”

“Eight-thirty.”

He hates she can’t stay longer but she’s got a life to return to. “Early day.”

“Early day,” she repeats, twisting the strap of her purse in her free hand. The flush is creeping down her neck. He'd like to kiss every inch and see how warm she feels against his lips. 

“I was wondering…if I were able to get away next week or so, would you mind me coming up there for a visit? I've never been to White Harbor but I want to see more of you. I don't want to go months and months or longer without seeing you again, Sansa.”

“Me neither. I’d really love that, Jon. I’ll show you around White Harbor. Jeyne would love to meet you, too.”

“Great.” 

A pair of shy smiles but he’s not a teenager and neither is she. The moment's teetering between them and it's time so he acts at long last. 

Placing both hands on her face, his thumbs caress her cheeks. “I’m going to kiss you now.” 

His voice is so gruff, nearly harsh sounding and he’s not asking for permission. 

But with the way her pupils are blown, he knows he doesn’t need to.

Slowly, almost like he’s trying to torture them both, he leans towards her. He hears the little hitching intake of breath she takes and it excites him. Her hands are at his chest, fingers tightly twisting through his shirt. She wants him to kiss as much as he wants this.

“I love you,” he manages to rumble and then his lips are meeting hers.

She’s whimpering into the kiss, the sound low and needy. She takes a step back, still holding on, pulling him. They cross the threshold into her room. He kicks the door shut behind them, mouths still joined. 

“I love you, too,” she gasps when they come up for air. 

He’s fucking high, heart soaring. He can’t believe he’s finally hearing those words coming out of her mouth and yet he knows they’re true. 

Arms wrapped around her, he holds her close. Her hands find their way into his hair, tugging, fingernails scraping, making a million nerve endings come alive. 

Their mouths crash together again and she’s encouraging him to press himself more firmly against her. He’s hard as a rock. (Geology joke springs to mind only to be quickly squashed.) She moans when she can feel his erection. It gives him a thrill, leaves him dizzy, knowing she can feel how much he wants her. Only flickering thought of the other lips she's kissed, squashed even quicker than his lame joke. This is all them. 

“You…only you,” he murmurs. He’s babbling but hope she understands.

She understands. “Yes, you. Me, too. Only you, just you and me,” she’s saying back, eyes moist and her smile making his heart glow. 

He traces her lips with a finger, follows it with his tongue. She parts her mouth, allowing him in.

He wants to remember this first kiss forever, commit it to memory so even when he’s old and grey, he’ll remember what it was like to surrender his soul to Sansa completely and forever.

* * *

Red, tired eyes and swollen lips on the flight home that morning. So much kissing that night. She doesn't think she's spent that much time kissing in one night since she was a teenager, maybe never. And those boys weren't very good kissers anyway. Certainly, nothing compared to Jon. 

They hadn't gone farther though. Not yet. He’s known her so long, understands her. Sex for the first time in a hotel in a city that holds a lot of bad memories for her wasn’t what she’d wanted. 

_“When you come up to White Harbor though, I want you to stay with me. And pack condoms,”_ she’d added, knowing it would make her blush to say it but wanting to be clear.

A dark flash in those grey eyes and a devilish grin. _“I will.”_

He’d held her close on the bed for a while longer, both still dressed. And at last, they’d made their way towards the door to bid each other goodnight and goodbye for a little while, kisses punctuating every other sentence.

_“I’ll see you in a couple of weeks?”_

_“One week.”_ Another kiss _. “Maybe three-four days.”_

A delayed flight has her pacing but then he’s striding across the airport towards her. She tries to maintain her composure, keenly aware of the looks she still gets in public and that the paps still follow her sometimes, the curiosity she incites in some, the judgment, good and bad. 

But all her years of living in Aegon’s shadow hadn’t prepared her for this joy she feels with Jon, with getting to love Jon openly and with all her heart at last, without shame. 

And so, like some romantic movie, she _runs_ to him when she sees his smile, leaps into his arms and wraps her legs around him even. People are staring, maybe knowing who she is and maybe not. She doesn't care. He's here. He's hers. 

A loud ‘oof!’ but he’s laughing, holding her tight and keeping them upright. He’s strong enough to hold her weight and strong enough to hold her together when she’s needs it.

Talking, talking, talking on the drive to her place as if they’ve not seen each other in years rather than five days ago, as if they’ve not called and texted every day since then. 

They’re going to meet Jeyne for lunch tomorrow and her boyfriend Theon. He’s kind of cocksure, reminds Sansa vaguely of Aegon that way, but he’s a goner for Jeyne and that’s what matters to Sansa. She hopes Jon likes him alright. She already knows he’ll love Jeyne.

But tonight…

“Are you hungry?” she asks, dropping her keys into their bowl as they reach her place while he's setting his bag down.

“Starving.” 

One word but, oh _fuck_ , the way he says it. There’s no question what he means. Their eyes meet and her panties are suddenly drenched. His dark grey eyes are nearly black.

He realizes how it came out and she knows he doesn't mean to push. "I can make myself a sandwich or-" he tries to demure but she's not having it. She doesn’t leap into his arms like at the airport but nearly. They’re pressed together like two strong magnets meeting in seconds flat. She wants him and he wants her. This feeling is too heady to ignore.

"Are you sure?" he asks, voice gruff.

"I'm sure. Come here, you."

A sexy grin. Kissing, touching, soft, hungry sounds. 

“Sofa?” he suggest, eyes flickering that way.

“Bed.”

His nostrils flare and then he’s sweeping her up into his arms. She shrieks, laughs, nearly weeps with joy. 

He’s never been in her house but he’s got good instincts. It’s not that hard to find anyway. Down the hall, second door on the right. 

She caresses his cheek, both breathing hard as he lays her down on top of the covers. 

“Did you need anything from your bag, Mr. Snow?” she teases and he groans like he’s in agony. Maybe he is. Honestly, she’s writhing with want when he makes it back twenty seconds later with a box of condoms, his shoes already kicked off somewhere in the house.

He collapses on top of her, bed creaking satisfyingly beneath their combined weight. His hands fumble with her blouse as she’s working at his belt buckle. 

“Sansa, I…gods, you’re so beautiful,” he says, overwhelmed when her top half is bare. She’s never felt more so.

Lips and tongue and teeth scraping, sending sparks of desire throughout every inch of her. Every sound, every move has the anticipation building. The coiling desire leaves her breathless, wild. Her brain shuts off to every thought except him. Jon, Jon, Jon. 

Her heels slips on the comforter beneath them as he’s covering her, him in his boxers, her in her panties. He takes his time then, kisses her softly, deeply. Spreads her hair out around them, his fingers slipping through it with reverence. 

He shifts and she feels him, hard, the tip damp through his boxers. She grips the waistband and slides them down. Her panties go next but he uses his teeth for that, presses kisses against her inner thigh, skims his hand over her mound, a promise of pleasure he could bring her.

“Later. Please…now.”

Slipping her hand along his back, she wraps one leg around him, urging him forward. He slides inside her, a perfect fit. “Fuck…” He surges forward to kiss her, fills her up.

“ _Yessss_ …” she whispers.

They move together, thrust and arch. She knows he wants it to last but this has been a long time coming, all those years of silent yearning on his part and all her denials. All of it unraveling and mending into something that's only them.

Growing more desperate, he asks what she needs. “You…just you,” she cries.

But he wants her to cum and he’s getting so close already. He grips her thigh, wraps it higher around his waist and then snakes a hand between them, rubs her clit, just enough friction and her back’s arching fully, her head tilted back and she screams in her climax.

Her eyes flutter open sometime later. She’s not even sure. Did she black out? Sex so good it rendered her unconscious? No, there’s the hour chiming. It wasn’t so long. They’d both need that. Fuck, had they ever.

He’s staring at her, that smile she loves, eyes crinkled up at the corners. Sweet, sweet man. He looks like he could laugh though.

“What?”

“Just wondering when you might be willing make an honest man of me, Dr. Stark?”

She laughs with him and knows that despite the disaster of her first marriage, she’d happily get married again if it means marrying Jon. “Someday,” she promises. 

Lips twitching, his fingers tease a nipple. “And when might we do _that_ again?” he asks next, nipping playfully at her shoulder before pulling her close.

They work to get under the comforter that now needs a wash. “Very, _very_ soon.” 

* * *

**Six years later**

Jon had moved to White Harbor within a month of his first trip there. No point pretending they wanted to be anywhere but with each other. A year later, his mother had decided to return North, where she’d been born and raised as well to be close to her only son, his wife and her family.

Their wedding four years ago had been a far smaller affair than her first but they’d liked it just like that; close family, dearest friends and them. 

Aegon had sent them both a note to mark the occasion of their wedding, part of his sobriety plan and the steps he was taking to achieve a lasting one. 

_Guess you get to dance with her all night this time if you want, cubby. I’d say I hope you make her happy (she deserves that after everything) but I already know you will._

_-A_

“I had no idea he knew that many words.”

“At least he was courteous,” Sansa says, hiding her grin at her smart ass and his joke.

Two weeks in the Summer Isles had followed. Lots of sunscreen whenever they stepped outside...not that they'd done much of that. The glass wall of their beach house gave them all the view of the water they could want and making love there had been the primary occupation of those two weeks, a golden time. 

The papers had had their fun when word had got out. **'Ex Marries Brother.'** A suitably titillating and misleading headline to grab attention. Poor Ned and his high blood pressure and Catelyn and her abhorrence of bad press had been bothered by it somewhat. Jon and Sansa had paid it little heed. It soon blew past. There was always plenty of scandal in the capital to harp on.

Sansa’s working towards tenure in WHU’s Psych Department where she’s the resident expert on Behavioral and Cognitive Geography. Another couple of years might see her there…maybe a little longer depending on things. 

Funny enough, her favorite fellow professor on campus teaches, you guessed it, Geology. Sansa’s sister says it’s fitting since Dr. Gendry Water’s clearly got a head full of rocks. (Jon suspects she likes him.)

She’s enjoying her ongoing research and the bright young minds who attend her lectures. She’s contemplating writing a book even.

“Like my famous author husband.”

“One book people liked and two they didn’t hate.”

“Two books that were amazing and one that was absolutely breathtaking.”

“Breathtaking, eh? Come here, you.”

“I believe this is how I wound up in this state, Mr. Snow.”

“Well, I can’t get you pregnant again when you’re already pregnant, Dr. Stark.” 

The book writing may happen over the next year or so. They’ve got something else to focus on in the coming weeks and months.

Merry Grace Snow comes into their lives and Jon’s whole focus shifts. His girls are all he needs or wants. Alright, he acknowledges there is more to his life than his role of husband and father but they are where his heart lies. 

“I was thinking…I want to write something Merry might enjoy before she’s thirty.”

“I think that sounds amazing, Mr. Writer." A sexy smile. "Now, come here, you.”

So a series about Lady & Ghost springs to life, two huskies (coincidentally very similar to their own two dogs), who have adventures, solve problems and are the best of friends. 

The novelist now signs books in the Children’s Literature section more often than not these days. Alright…mostly, he’s asked to guest read since kids don’t give a shit about autographs. As one young reader pointed out, _‘You might scribble over the pictures by mistake, Mr. Snow.’_

Is their life perfect? 

Of course not. Life is never perfect any more than people are. 

But yeah, they are blissfully happy.

* * *

“How are you?” she asks over coffee. She’s asked him that a dozen times the past two days. He doesn’t mind.

“I’m alright, I promise. Are you sure you don’t mind me going?”

“Jon…I wouldn’t know what to think if you _didn’t_ go. I think the closure will be good for you.”

“Spoken like a true Psych major.”

A wry laugh, batting at his hand. A kiss, a sigh, a goodbye. Merry’s still asleep with it being this early.

“Do you want to give her a kiss goodbye?”

“No, not that. I’ll be home tonight though late. I’ll give her a kiss goodnight instead.”

Three days ago, chest pains had struck and he’d been gone before the ambulance got him to the hospital. Rhaegar Targaryen, dead at 63.

The usual suspects fill the funeral home, ready to say their goodbyes to an old warhorse of the capital's political scene and an absolute asshole. Auld acquaintances and flesh to press, deals to make over the course of a semi-social occasion. The strangest deals can be struck at funerals and weddings. 

Jon straightens his tie and adjusts his glasses, hating this scene so much. 

He’s not spoken to him since he’d set his dogs loose on her, may never forgive him for that. He doesn’t regret it one bit. Not even being here will make him regret no speaking to the man for the final five and a half years of his life.

But funerals are as much for the living as the deceased and he’s decided to make this appearance for someone else with Sansa’s blessing.

Aegon will never be someone Jon will understand. How could you have a woman like Sansa and not realize what a treasure you held? How could you not do everything in your power to keep her happy? How could you throw her away? 

But he's still family. Jon doesn't have to like him all that much, maybe that's just the way things go between some siblings, but he'll always be his half-brother. 

Of all the things Aegon’s had; money, power, prestige, Sansa was the only thing Jon had ever wanted, too. 

_Worked out well in my favor. If only I’d met her first to begin with_. 

That thought’s useless, as useless (and heartbreaking) as it would've been to let her past with Aegon stand in the way of the life they’ve made together. Jon's not that kind of fool. 

A hug for Rhaenys, a sympathetic nod towards Elia who put up his bullshit for so fucking long (Jon can’t even imagine) and then there’s Aegon. 

A hug. His brother is strong as a bull. “Knew you’d come, cubby.”

“Did you? I wasn’t sure I would until yesterday morning when I found the right flight schedule.” 

A brief smile, a conscious look. “How’s Sansa and your daughter?”

“Wonderful. They’re both great. How are you, Aegon?”

A rueful laugh, passes a hand through his silver hair that’s thinning prematurely. “Me? Oh, I’m surviving.”

_We always knew you’d find a way to get by_. 

(Mostly) sober for the past five years, he works as a political correspondent for one of the talk radio programs so popular here in the capital. Rhaegar probably considered it a huge step down for his golden son but Aegon needed something to do. He's good at it and still enjoys a tarnished variety of the limelight. He's already got a second divorce under his belt though and the years hang on his face very badly. 

The funeral director comes up, says a quick word to Aegon. He’s been asked to eulogize their father. Jon wishes him luck and finds a spot towards the back of the room. He watches his brother perform for an audience. He still knows how to give a moving speech, how to make the sheeple believe. Too bad the man he’s talking about isn’t worthy of it.

Jon slips out an hour later without so much as a goodbye. He’s got a plane to catch, a wife to hold and a little girl to kiss goodnight. They can have all this. Jon’s got everything he wants waiting for him at home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to those of you who've read this amongst all the other fic posted this week during drabblefest! It was an idea that wouldn't leave me alone and I'm glad my 'not a drabble' still wound up getting written. 
> 
> I've got some WIP updates coming over the next couple of weeks and a little post-canon AU fic for Valentine's I'm working on. Wishing you all good health and much love :)


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